


The Ryan Reynolds To My Sandra Bullock

by Somethingoutofnothing



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Can be AU, College Student Stiles, Fake Proposal, M/M, Magic Stiles, Or future fic, idk - Freeform, only briefly mentioned, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 19:28:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3459080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somethingoutofnothing/pseuds/Somethingoutofnothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'If Stiles didn’t know that Derek knew what he was about to pretend to do, then he’d be in full blown panic stations, by now. He’d be looking for the exits, figuring out any way he could to get out. Get away. Fight or flight (Stiles leaned heavily towards flight when it came to werewolves.) But he knew that Derek knew, and Derek knew that he knew that Derek knew, so Stiles was totally in the clear and totally not freaking out.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ryan Reynolds To My Sandra Bullock

**Based on _[this](http://deliverusfromsburb.tumblr.com/post/107809127723/imagine-your-otp-proposing-repeatedly-at-different)_ Tumblr post.**

* * *

 

It had started as just a way to score some free food and save some money, because Stiles was poor as fuck, okay? He was drowning in student loans and living off noodles and left overs, he couldn’t be held accountable for the idea he came up with in a fit of hunger. Seriously. At one point Scott had turned into a giant cheeseburger before Stiles’ eyes (that also may have been due to exhaustion, to be fair, he’d been awake for about thirty hours at the time and that was only thanks to energy drinks and coffee). But that was the final straw. When he decided enough was enough. Something had to be done, before he found himself eating his best friend.

And Derek? Well, Derek, as always, would get dragged down with him.

So, after a suitable amount of sleep, Stiles decided that he had the perfect money saving, Stilinski-feeding plan, even if it wasn’t exactly a well thought out idea (but when were they ever? At least if this one didn’t work out, there was no risk to him. For once. Physically. His dignity was another thing).

As for Derek, well… He didn’t really have much of an excuse. He wasn’t one long night away from eating his best friend. He wasn’t getting interrogated by the sheriff and Mrs McCall every time he went home about how much he was eating. Derek, to put it simply, was a sucker when it came to Stiles.

After dating Stiles for two years, the prickly Derek Hale that the Beacon Hills community had known and not so much loved, was almost completely gone. In his place was a slightly more approachable Derek Hale, who sometimes even smiled, and could hold a conversation that didn’t consist of growling, threats of violence and eyebrow movements. Stiles considered that a win.

(Of course when Stiles had explained his plan, Derek had been sceptical. Only briefly. Stiles knew he’d totally sold the idea with ‘come on, Derek. Be the Ryan Reynolds to my Sandra Bullock. We’re totally going to ‘The Proposal’ this bitch.’ Derek, true to form, had replied with ‘you’re not getting deported, Stiles. You just want free food because you’re broke.’ Still. Stiles won, he could hear the reluctant resignation in Derek’s tone.)

So that was how Stiles found himself sitting across from Derek in a romantic restaurant, with a single candle lighting up his eyes and everything. He was even wearing a suit. If Stiles didn’t know that Derek knew what he was about to pretend to do, then he’d be in full blown panic stations, by now. He’d be looking for the exits, figuring out any way he could to get out. Get away. Fight or flight (Stiles leaned heavily towards flight when it came to werewolves.) But he knew that Derek knew, and Derek knew that he knew that Derek knew, so Stiles was totally in the clear and totally not freaking out.

“So how’s the training going?” Derek asked softly, looking over at Stiles with a small smile on his face. Stiles would never get over that smile, because he was the one to put it there. Derek, for some reason, deemed him acceptable to be on the receiving end of that smile and Stiles still didn’t totally understand it. 

“It’s going awesome, actually. Really. Deaton’s given me some pretty helpful stuff.” Only because Stiles had accidently blown up all the lights in his building when he’d tried to teach himself. Deaton at that point, seemed to decide that his cryptic ‘help’ wasn’t good enough when faced with a pissed off sheriff who just found out his son could do magic. And also that he had to replace every light in the apartment, because Stiles ran out of candles to use as light sources. “I’ve actually almost got the hang of teleporting.” 

Derek, the amazing guy that he was, gave Stiles a worried look. After the sheriff, Derek had been the most cautious about Stiles doing magic. Scott, bless his werewolf heart, had thought it was totally awesome, and then requested that he act just a little bit like Harry Potter when he got the hang of everything. “You’re still being careful, right?” Because Derek seemed to think that since Stiles had left Beacon Hills and his watchful eye, he was going to go through some sort of magical rebellion or something.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Dude, relax. I’m still being as careful as I can be. Starting out small like you told me to.” Derek nodded, seemingly happy with that answer for the moment.

The waitress came over to their table, asking for their orders, and paying a little more attention to Derek than Stiles would like. It wasn’t that he was jealous exactly (okay, maybe a little, werewolves weren’t the only ones who could be possessive) but even though Derek could probably smell exactly what she was thinking of doing to him (Stiles knew those things, because he was thinking the same), he said nothing. For a werewolf, sometimes Derek could be seriously unobservant. Or maybe he just didn’t care. Either way, Stiles made sure to give the waitress a smug smile as he placed his order, because Derek was _his,_ thank you very much.

So maybe that was the final push Stiles needed to go ahead with his plan, because up until that point he’d been considering just having a nice meal and taking Derek up on his offer to pay, because Derek had a proper paying job and he wasn’t living on scraps. But no. Not now. Now, he had a fake point to prove.

Stiles cleared his throat and gave the retreating waitress a glare, which only earned him a small smile and eye roll from Derek, who apparently knew exactly what was going on, the bastard. That’s fine. Stiles wouldn’t hold it against him… Much. He stood up and moved over to Derek’s side of the table, and knelt down.

It was like the whole restaurant stopped as soon as he got into that magical position. Suddenly all eyes were on him. It was a bit more nerve wracking than it should be, really. “Derek Hale. I love you. Really. You’re grouchy. Sometimes moody. Possessive, when there’s other… Y’know… People like you around. And your beard gives me stubble burn when we make out. You’re ridiculously fit, which makes me feel terrible about myself. And you’re so much of a morning person it’s actually disgusting.” Another eye roll. They’d have to discuss eye rolling during his fake proposal. “But you also let me sleep in, even when you get up early, you make me food, buy me curly fries when you’ve been a dick, and sometimes you even shave for me, so… Do you want to marry me? Maybe?”

Stiles looked up at Derek and Derek smirked down at him, and for a second it was almost real. “This is such a surprise,” Derek replied eventually, pulling Stiles up off the ground with ease. “I mean… Two years, Stiles. It’s a bit early don’t you think?” He asked, but his eyes gave him away.

Stiles shoved his shoulder and huffed. “Shut up, asshole. Are you making an honest man out of me or not?”

Derek watched him for a few seconds, seemingly taking in every inch of Stiles’ face and committing it to memory. “Well, I can try,” he said eventually, trying and pretty much failing to stop his face splitting into a grin. “But I can’t promise anything. You’re a trouble maker from way back. Some things don’t change.”

Stiles grinned, the entire restaurant clapped and it was like a goddamn movie. That’s how perfect it was, and damn, Stiles couldn’t help but wish it were real.  

They’d talked about it, once or twice, but nothing had ever really come of it. They’d never really agreed or disagreed. It had never really gotten past the point of ‘one day’. They ate their dinner (which came free, with complimentary dessert), stared dreamily across from each other (that wasn’t even faked) and then left.

As soon as they made it clear of the restaurant, Stiles lost it in a fit of laughter. He couldn’t help it, because had they really just done that? Apparently, yeah. It was a stupid, crazy, insane idea that Derek had gone happily along with, and if that wasn’t a sign of how far Derek had come, Stiles didn’t know what was.

“I didn’t even get you a fake ring,” Stiles said, once he’d composed himself a little more. “What kind of guy proposes without a ring? Is that really someone you’d want to marry?”

 Derek raised an eyebrow, a smirk pulling at his lips. “No rings until you actually intend to commit, alright?” He said it softly, with a smile, but Stiles could hear the weight behind the words.

“Okay,” he said softly, nodding once and taking Derek’s hand. “No rings until the real deal. Got it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'll hopefully do another chapter, but if no one's going to read it, what's the point, right? So please leave a comment if you enjoyed it and/or would like to see another chapter, because I really love receiving comments and stuff. It makes my day. :) 
> 
> Or, if you feel like it, follow me on Tumblr. I'm somethingxoutxofxnothing over there. Come and say hi!


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